The Truce
by AxCfangirl
Summary: Who is the enemy? Someone you have fought. Someone not on your side. Someone different. But someone you may be able to understand. Someone who may not be so different from you.


English is not my first language. Please bear with grammatical errors.

And for your information, my fic is based on the remastered version (but I watched the original version, too).

 **Disclaimer: I don't own GS/GSD.**

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 **The Truce**

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"Just take care, okay? And if anyone gives you too much trouble in ZAFT, let me know," the blonde says.

"I'll be fine, Cagalli," the brunet replies. "I can take care of myself, and Athrun'll be in PLANT, too."

"You shouldn't worry yourself," the blunet agrees. "I keep a good eye on Kira." Then, he adds seriously, "I'll try to keep him in line, too. Keep him from slacking off or breaking rules and make him act appropriately as a former admiral of Orb."

The blonde nods. "I'm counting on you for that."

"Hey, give me more credit," the brunet protests, though with a smile.

The other two look at each other. Then the blond rolls her eyes with amusement while the blunet exhales a resigned breath.

The friendly conversation lapses into silence, but they don't appear to be feeling uncomfortable. They seem to be quite close.

Shinn continues his silent observation from some distance away, leaning against the wall near the sofa on which the Hawke sisters are sitting and chatting. As his eyes move back to her face, the blonde turns her head in his direction.

Their eyes meet, and his body automatically stiffens, though only a little.

"Shinn," she calls out to him in a calm, steady voice. "Can I talk to you?" She glances in Kira and Athrun's direction, adding, "Alone."

Athrun's face turns into a frown and his mouth opens. But before the blunet utters a word, the brunet standing next to him grabs his shoulder.

"Sure, we go to the lounge. Come on, Athrun." Pulling the reluctant but silent blunet with him toward the door to the VIP lounge, Kira throws a soft smile at the red-heads.

"Shinn?" Lunamaria asks uncertainly.

He looks at her face which appears somewhat worried. "Go, Luna."

She regards him with narrowed eyes for a while before letting out a breath and giving a nod. Lifting her shoulder at her sister who is tilting her head questioningly, she heads toward the door with Meyrin in tow.

The door opens and closes, and only two of them are left in the personal waiting room the port staff prepared for them. Or more like for the blonde.

Bracing himself, he shifts his eyes from the door to her. Unhesitant, she steps toward him. He pushes himself off the wall. She takes several more steps and they stand face-to-face.

After a few heartbeats, she opens her mouth, straightening up. "I know it's overdue, but I am very sorry about your family. I wish there were something I could do to make it up to you. But...there isn't. Nothing I do can get your family back. All I can promise you is I'll try my hardest not to let that kind of thing happen again."

She pauses, appearing slightly hesitant. She looks into his eyes as if searching for something for a moment, and then discards the hesitation. He doesn't know whether she found what she was looking for or what she looked for to begin with. He just waits for her next words. He feels there is more she wants to say. And he is willing to hear what she has to say.

"Your family's death should've never happened. We should've protected our people better," she resumes. "However, I still believe in the battle, in protecting the principles. I still stand by my father's decisions—and my decisions."

As she closes her mouth, silence fills the room. Looking at her, he feels odd. Before this war began, the sight of her and her words stirred anger in him. But now, he doesn't feel it. It is as if the dream he had during the final battle of the war—the dream with Stellar—had taken away his anger so that he can see other things, other feelings. Like his love for Orb which he had been trying to deny and discard but not been able to.

Now, he feels like he can see things better, see them differently. With the sense of freshness, he faces the person in front of him.

Her words sounded sincere. Her face and eyes look sincere. She seems to mean what she said.

But then, it isn't new. He knew it already. Probably always. Even when his anger was blinding him, he never suspected she, or her father, didn't believe in what they were saying and doing. He never thought they were lying, saying whatever people wanted to hear so that they could get their greedy wishes fulfilled like many politicians do. As much as he hated them, he never doubted their integrity. He still doesn't.

He knows, he just knows that her feeling is true. That she is truly sorry about his family as she said.

Some emotions stir in him. He tries to figure out what it is. It isn't anger. It isn't sadness. It isn't pleasure. It isn't exactly satisfaction. It isn't exactly relief. It certainly isn't gratitude. He isn't sure what he is feeling right now. But there is something he is sure about.

He wanted to hear that. He needed to.

He wanted her to know his pain, his suffering, his anger—his feeling of betrayal.

He believed in Orb's principles. He trusted the Athhas and the other noble families, the people in the top of the government and the military. He expected them to protect him and those he cared about. Yet, they failed. They betrayed him.

And, he realizes, that is what truly made him angry. His failed expectations. Not exactly the decisions Orb and Uzumi made.

After all, can he really believe what Uzumi did is wrong? Uzumi fought to protect what he believed in, fought for the world he wished for. Is it so different from what he himself did?

It of course doesn't make Uzumi's choices right without any question. But then, didn't he, and his family, support Uzumi, support the choice to follow Orb's principles through? If Uzumi's decision was a mistake, weren't they also, at least partially, responsible as his supporters?

Or does he want to say his family was just following their leader without thinking and therefore innocent? Like some people who followed Djibril? Like some people who supported Dullindal? They follow and support but, once their leader failed, change their attitudes and claim no responsibility for what happened, what the person they supported did. As if they have no ability to think, to make their own decisions. As if they are mere children, instead of adults, who should be shielded from taking responsibility for their own choices.

He despises those people. But doesn't denying his family's responsibility for Orb's decision during the previous war make his family the same as those people?

He himself may be able to dodge responsibility; he was a kid then. But his parents were adults. If he insists that Uzumi should be blamed for making a wrong decision, he probably has to accept that his parents should be blamed for supporting the decision.

Furthermore, what did he want Uzumi to have done? Surrender to the Atlantic Federation's demands and join the Earth Alliance? And make the lives of Coordinators who lived in Orb—including himself and his family—difficult?

But wasn't it exactly what Cagalli did in the beginning of this war? Instead of praising her for her decision, however, he blamed her and Orb for making it. He had blamed her father for protecting Orb's principles. Then, he blamed her for abandoning the principles.

He couldn't forgive Uzumi for failing to protect his family. He couldn't forgive Cagalli for failing to protect the principles Orb had protected at the cost of his family's lives. Hearing Orb had decided to abandon the principles after all, he felt as if Orb was saying his family's death had been meaningless; they had died for nothing. It felt like nothing but another betrayal.

What he had been angry at wasn't the ideals, the principles of Orb. It was the powerlessness of Orb to protect both the principles and the citizens. He didn't want Orb to abandon the principles. He didn't want Orb to let the citizens die. He wanted Orb to be powerful enough to achieve both the goals.

And he was angry that the reality didn't meet his expectations. That this world wasn't an ideal world where all of his hopes would come true. He was angry at Orb, and the Athhas, for not having enough power to protect his innocence, for letting him find out how the real world was in the worst way possible.

The anger actually helped him, though he had little understanding of the feeling at that time. The angrier he felt about what had happened, the more he wanted power; the desire gave him the energy he needed to get back on his feet and build a new life.

The anger was his means of survival. It was his crutch to recover from the grief. He became attached to it, not knowing how to let go of it. Maybe he was unsure whether he could keep standing without it. Afraid even. He didn't have much else. He was on his own, not really having anything or anyone to protect despite his desire to protect something, anything. Someone, anyone.

Then, an Athha suddenly came into his life again and he found someone he could direct his anger toward, someone he could release his emotions on. She wasn't just a reminder of the tragedy he had experienced. She wasn't just someone—partly—responsible for his family's death. She was also someone who denied the value of military power. The power he had finally obtained.

He couldn't bear her idealistic words. He couldn't let her denounce the prize—the latest-model mobile suit—he had just received with pride and pleasure. More than anything, he couldn't stand that she didn't seem to know the cost of her, and her father's, decisions during the previous war. If she could criticize having strong power after the war, after many people had died in Orb because of the country's powerlessness, surely she hadn't learned anything, didn't know anything, right?

Looking back, however, he realizes that his anger was partly based on envy. There was a part of him that wanted to still believe in ideals. And it felt unfair that she could maintain her belief in Orb's principles, have something to hold onto, when he didn't know what to believe anymore. That she seemed to live in a bright, hopeful world while he lived in a sad, hopeless world where there was no family or home he could return to.

Telling himself that her world was a delusion and his world was the reality didn't really make him feel better. He wanted her to learn. He wanted her to see what he had seen. He wanted her to feel what he was feeling.

But even after the fall of Junius Seven, she seemed too optimistic and hopeful—too ignorant of the feelings of those hurt by the previous war, of his. He felt as if she was turning her eyes away from the reality, from the pain and suffering of people like him. Just like Orb covered the land where a horrible thing had happened with beautiful flowers, burying and forgetting the past. Neither Cagalli nor Orb understood or even tried to understand what had happened to him, he felt.

Now he understands that focusing on the upside doesn't necessarily mean ignoring people hurting and suffering. That people need someone to show them hope despite, or because of, the grim reality.

Now he understands the flowers aren't to forget, but to remember. To grieve instead of hating. Now he understands why people want a beautiful sight that soothes them even if only for a moment. That it's a symbol of hope.

Now he understands why people need ideals. Because what he wanted, what he fought for, was also ideals, wasn't it? A world where people who live normal, peaceful lives, people who are powerless to fight are protected; the world he wanted for his family and himself. A beautiful and peaceful world filled with warmth and kindness; the world he wanted for Stellar. A world where no more unfortunate children are born and no more fights occur; the world Rey wanted and he agreed to fight for, the world he wanted for Rey.

They are ideals, ideas about how the world should be, how you want the world to be.

Can he say they are never unattainable and therefore meaningless? Can he discard them just because they are ideals? Can he truly say that wishing for those worlds or fighting for them is meaningless, foolish...or wrong? Is it how Orb has been? How the Athhas have been? ...How _he_ has been? Have they all been wrong?

He doesn't want to think so.

Ideals certainly aren't enough. Pursuing ideals isn't always right. But probably it doesn't mean ideals are wrong or worthless.

Without ideals, the ideas of what is good and right, the ideas of what kind of world and future you want to work for, can people still create a better world? Can people keep moving forward without ideals, without believing in them, believing in the better? If you don't believe in ideals, what humans, the world, the future, and yourself can be, can you still keep trying to be better and do better, to create a better world and a better future?

There is something, some kind of power, in ideals. Something that makes you believe in the future, gives you the strength to hold on.

He bites his lower lip. He now understands the value of ideals. He now understands why Uzumi, Cagalli, and the other Representatives decided to fight to protect Orb's principles. He now understands that they tried to protect the citizens as much as possible at the same time.

But it doesn't automatically mean he can forgive them, or he will.

Those people had the responsibility to protect the citizens. They had the power ordinary people didn't so that they could do what ordinary people couldn't. But they failed to do their job.

 _Power._

He looks down on his red uniform, his fingers touching the part where a wing-shaped pin once was. ZAFT Red. FAITH. Symbols of his power. The power he craved for. The power he gained. The power he used...not so wisely.

The faces of his family flash in his head. And the innocent face of a golden-haired girl. The people he wanted to protect. The people he failed to protect.

 _"S_ _hinn_ _..._ _said he_ _..._ _protects_ _...S_ _tellar.._ _."_ A childlike voice comes back to his mind and his chest tightens.

Stellar's death is different from his family's. He didn't have any power when he lost his parents and sister; he had power when he lost the golden-haired girl. Still, he failed.

No matter how much you want to protect someone, it doesn't guarantee you can. Sometimes your power is just not enough. Sometimes you make a mistake that costs you someone important, and no matter how much you regret it, you can't undo it.

Intentions don't negate results. You wouldn't be excused from taking responsibility for your actions and decisions just because your intentions were good, just because you tried hard.

But does it mean your intention doesn't matter? Your feelings, your desires to do good and right don't matter? Then, you shouldn't try to do anything unless you can do it perfectly? Or at least unless you are sure you can certainly do it well? Anything less than perfect, or at least anything that doesn't make the pass mark, doesn't matter? Is it utterly meaningless? Are you worthless if you have failed to achieve what you are supposed to do? Or are you worthless until you succeed in achieving it, until you fulfill your role or become somebody?

His desire to protect Stellar, his attempts to save her life, or his effort to create a better world where people don't have to suffer due to fighting anymore. Are they all meaningless? What he wanted and tried to do doesn't matter...because he failed?

If so, isn't it better to say you can't do anything and do nothing and therefore never fail than to try to do something and fail? Those who just watch the suffering or look the other way without doing anything to help are better than those who try to save someone and fail? Because the former doesn't make mistakes while the latter does? Doing nothing until you are forced or told to do something—so that you can avoid taking responsibility, avoid being blamed—is the best, wisest choice?

He doesn't want to say that. He doesn't want to agree with such thinking.

And if his intentions matter, then Cagalli's intentions too should matter, right?

Of course their situations aren't the same. She was a top official of the military and is a leader of the country while he is only a soldier. She has had more power and more responsibilities. They are different.

But maybe...they aren't as different as he believed.

Just like her, he has strong power, the power he can't say he has been using well. He failed to achieve the goals he aimed for, the tasks assigned to him. He hurt people including those he cared about. He killed many people, including those she tried to protect.

They both have their own sins. They are both guilty. They both caused many people pain and suffering. They are both responsible for many deaths.

Unconsciously, he looks up to stare into her eyes. The amber eyes stare back. His own face, reflected in them, also looks back at him.

Somehow he realizes that it is how it is. Whatever he says to her, he is saying it to himself at the same time.

 _"I_ _s what you wanted really such a world_ _?! S_ _uch power_ _?! R_ _ecall_ _, S_ _hinn_ _! W_ _hat have you truly wanted_ _?!"_ Athrun's words echo in his head.

He asks himself, _W_ _hat do I want_ _?_

Does he want to insist she will always be a sinner, and therefore he is too? Or does he want to argue her sins are unforgivable while his isn't? He doesn't think he wants to do either. Not anymore.

They may never be really forgiven for what they did. Her sins may be unpardonable while his isn't. It may be the truth. It may be what people believe or say.

But it doesn't mean he has to do so as well, does it?

He wants something different. He wants to believe in something different. Even though he isn't really sure what it is, he wants to do something other than blame her or hate her.

He wants to be someone different.

"I'm not forgiving you," he slowly starts, carefully thinking about what he is going to say, which is rare for him. "But...I don't hate you anymore." After some hesitation, he adds, "Maybe I never really hated you."

He doesn't know her enough to hate her. He never knew her as a person, never tried to see her as herself. All he saw is what she is and what she represents. Maybe partly because it was how he wanted to see her, what he wanted her to be: an object on which he could project his emotions rather than a person not so different from him.

When he saw her as an Athha, saw only her status and position, it was so easy to face her. He could say and do whatever he wanted. He believed that he had the right to do so, that his words and actions were justifiable. Because he was the victim and she was one of those responsible for his tragic past.

He wanted to believe what he did was right because he was a victim, because he was a good person. Like he wanted to believe Stellar wasn't to be blamed for many people's deaths she had caused because she was a victim, because she was an innocent, helpless person.

However, victims still do wrong. Good people still hurt others. Your tragedy doesn't neutralize your faults. Your suffering and pain doesn't justify your sins. Even if you are a powerless victim, you become a person who takes lives and makes others cry once you obtain power.

He averts his eyes from the blonde in front of him. "And...well, I'm a bit sorry for what I said before...I think."

No matter how much pain and suffering she has gone through, it doesn't make her blameless, not responsible for what she said and did. His faults don't cancel out her faults.

As hers don't cancel out his.

No matter how much he has suffered and hurt from his loss, it doesn't make him blameless, not responsible for his words and actions. He isn't a powerless child anymore.

And he has to admit that the way he treated her wasn't right. That some of the things he said to her weren't justifiable.

If they were meeting as an ordinary citizen and a leader of a country, it would probably be fine. But they aren't. At least, he doesn't think they are. Or maybe he just doesn't want this to be like that. He doesn't know which is true. He doesn't care.

Either way, he came to personally know her to an extent. He can still choose to keep seeing her as someone who lives in a different world from his, limit his interactions with her to business.

Or he can choose something else.

He looks back at her. "Though I still say you annoy me," he says, quirking a corner of his mouth.

She widens her eyes to stare at him. Slowly, she puts on a similar expression. It looks somewhat weird, like she is making an effort to keep the face, but he can't say his is better anyway.

"The feeling is mutual."

He snorts, and her face turns into a small and more natural smile. She blinks rapidly and he pretends to not notice the moisture in her eyes, for his own sake rather than hers.

After a little, he straightens his face and looks her in the eye. "I hold you to your word, by the way. I'll never forgive you if you go back on it."

He knows it is impossible for her to never let anything bad happen to Orb. She is a human being and there is a limit to what one human can do. But he expects her to do her best to protect Orb, as she promised.

He loved Orb. He hated Orb. He attacked Orb. He felt glad and relieved that Orb had not been destroyed. All he wants now for the country is to be a peaceful place where people can live happily. Orb isn't where he belongs anymore, but it will always be an important place to him. His home country where he lived and parted with his family.

Her face is as serious as his. "I won't." The words are short and simple, but feel genuine—real.

He feels like it is the first real thing they have had. He feels as if this is the first time they have really met, even. Maybe it is. Maybe it is the first time they have faced each other and seen each other as Shinn Asuka and Cagalli Yula Athha.

She stretches out her hand. "Can we? Like a sign of truce."

He eyes her suspiciously. "Did Kira-san advise you to do this or what?"

"Huh?" She blinks, looking genuinely confused.

"He asked me to shake hands, too. When we met face-to-face for the first time," he explains.

"He did that?" She looks at her hand with a frown before holding out her hand again, further than she previously did. "Well, this is _my_ idea," she insisted. "I didn't take it from anyone, okay?"

"Whatever," he scoffs, and takes her hand.

He likes that she suggested making a truce instead of becoming friends or something like that. He hasn't yet decided whether he wants to become friends with her. He needs to know her, how she actually is, before making the decision.

But she isn't his enemy or he doesn't want to treat her as one anymore, either. And he supposes it is all right. It isn't like everyone is either your friend or foe. Nor do they have to be. Although he still has things he doesn't agree with her on, it doesn't mean they have to be enemies, probably.

Maybe you can still understand each other. Maybe you can still accept each other. Maybe there is another way to coexist. Maybe they can be something different. Something that is neither friends nor enemies.

He squeezes her hand, which feels like a hand of a person, a human, just like himself.

Letting the hand go, he feels like something in his chest softly clicks—settles. This is probably the last piece he needed to finally get closure on his past, on the tragedy that shattered his life.

The chapter of his life has come to an end. He is moving on to the next chapter. And it feels right. It's not like he is going to forget his family or what happened to them. He just won't live in the past. Instead, he walks forward with his past, with the precious memories of the people he lost, the people he loved.

He exhales a long breath. Somehow, she does the same thing at the same time. They stare at each other for a moment, and then he shrugs and she lets out an amused smile.

Something comes to his mind and he asks, "Hey, is it true you and Kira-san are twins?"

"Yeah, we are. Who told you that?"

"Luna, I think. Or Meyrin? I don't really remember. They always chatter noisily and I just half-listen."

She lifts an eyebrow. "That's rude, you know."

"As if you never do." He lightly snorts, walking toward the door to the lounge. "How come you're twins? I thought you were a Natural."

"I sometimes do, but not with my friends," she replies, falling in line with him. "And I'm a Natural. It's a long story."

She reaches out for the doorknob, but he grabs it before she does. The annoyed look on her face brings a smug smile to his.

He opens the door, and they step forward, trying to enter the room faster than the other.

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 **The End**

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 **A/N** : To tell the truth, I doubt very much that Shinn can think like this right after GSD. It will probably take him years.

But it's still not impossible, albeit a stretch. And from an OMAKE CD drama, it seems like Shinn's attitude toward Cagalli somewhat softened after GSD. So maybe this isn't so far from what really happened between them.

Thank you for reading. If you've reviewed my other fics, thank you for that, too.


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